


Together When...

by xfadingstarx



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, High School, Reincarnation, Ulquihime Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27871817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xfadingstarx/pseuds/xfadingstarx
Summary: Her hand reached for the blue floral hairpin in hisThis time, they finally touchedFor Ulquihime Week Day Four: Reincarination/Rebirth
Relationships: Ulquiorra Cifer/Inoue Orihime
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	1. Ode to Plum Blossoms

**Author's Note:**

> This reincarnation story is set in modern China. Please head over to my [tumblr](https://xfadingstarx.tumblr.com/) where I have UlquiHime art for this fic and the rest of Ulquihime week.

_Are you afraid, woman?_

_No, no I am not._

As her hand reached out for his, all she could feel was the warm ash around her fingers. 

She gently removed the hairpins from her hair and clutched them tightly to her chest—desperately praying that this wasn’t the end. Even if no one was listening, even if nothing could be done, she wanted–no, _needed_ –to believe. 

Still, as the sands of Hueco Mundo swirled around her feet, she apologized to seemingly no one. She turned to leave when Uryu called her, but as she took numerous steps forward, she couldn’t help but look back. There was nothing there except for the white sand and the dark sky. Her footprints in the sand faded quickly, leaving no traces of her behind. 

“How unfair,” she thought. “Why am I the one with nothing but memories at the end?” 

She didn’t know what to do, so she prayed, and kept on walking. 

* * *

_Outside the post-house, beside the broken bridge,_

_Alone, deserted, a flower blooms._

_Saddened by her solitude in the falling dusk,_

_She is now assailed by wind and rain._

_Let other flowers be envious!_

_She craves not Spring for herself alone._

_Her petals may be ground in the mud,_

_But her fragrance will endure._

\- Lu Yu, "Ode to the Plum Blossom"

* * *

In the autumn of Li Yu Xian’s first year of highschool, she was immediately drawn to the new transfer student—an aloof silent boy who sat in the corner of the classroom. 

By winter, others in the class had thought that he was weird because he kept to himself, but she dismissed their hushed murmurs as nothing more than jealousy.

He was first in the class. 

* * *

In the early spring of Mao Zheng Chun’s first year of highschool, he brushed hands by chance with a girl who reminded him of the plum blossoms outside. His pencil had dropped beside her seat and she was quick to return it when class had ended. 

He stared at her when she had approached. Something about her seemed too familiar, but he could not place it. He was sure the dizzying scent of the plum blossoms was affecting his head, for when she smiled at him, he felt his knees go weak and the strength sapped from his body. 

When she left, he quickly checked for an open window.

There weren’t any.

* * *

In the autumn of her second year, she was assigned his seat partner. 

She didn’t think it was a coincidence. 

* * *

She doodled all over her notes, he noticed. They were covered in flowers and pictures of the moon. He thought that she had far too much skill to not try for an art institute. 

Once, he’d expressed that sentiment aloud and she did nothing but smile. 

She knew as well as he did that that wasn’t an option.

* * *

In the late winter of their second year, she started eating lunch with him. She didn’t like seeing anyone so alone. 

“I didn’t know that you were a returnee,” she said after watching him scroll through the English web. She had also noticed a perfect English test that slipped out of his bag. 

He’d said nothing, but she continued to chirp on about how much she wanted to go overseas, see more of the world, and experience all the different things that meant being human. 

“Better the little horse that crossed the river than the frog in the bottom of the well,” he muttered and as she stared at the blooming plum blossoms outside, she couldn’t help but feel that she had just found common ground. 

* * *

In the spring of their second year, they had fallen into a comfortable pace: he was her de facto English tutor and she looked over his literature. The birds chirped outside and the teacher started on a new topic. 

“When we examine the story of the Cowherder and the Weaver maiden, we can see that…” 

As the teacher droned on, she sketched in the margins of her notes — hibiscuses and small bats. 

“From here, we can understand the importance of momentary happiness in the midst of suffering…” 

Yu Xian hated this story. It always made her cry. Why should they be happy with momentary happiness? Why couldn’t they have happiness forever? 

She didn’t know what compelled her, but she reached over to Zheng Chun’s notebook and wrote in the margin: 

_No matter how much the teacher talks about magpie bridges and milky ways_

_They are still apart_

* * *

That night, as she took a quick break from the arduous amounts of homework, she thought about the cow herder and the weaver maiden and she hoped that maybe one day, she would understand and appreciate the story in the way that everyone else around her had seemed to. Especially since, no one else had ever expressed to her that they hated the story as well. 

She fidgeted with the blue hibiscus hairpin in her grasp, softly tracing over each individual ridge of the flower’s petals. She felt the sadness and the stress of the day disappear. As she twirled the hairpin in between her thumb and forefinger, not for the first time, she remarked on how strange it was that it did not have a match. 

Unfortunately, that was the way that she had received it from her mother. Seven year old Yu Xian had bawled for days because her mother would not allow her to accompany her on an overseas business trip, instead, insisting that her education was more important. When her mother returned, all she had brought back was a single plain hibiscus hairpin. 

She had expected Yu Xian to throw a petulant fit over the hairpin, but the young girl accepted it, smiled, and said nothing more. 

* * *

In the summer leading up to third year, Mao Zheng Chun often took walks around the city. Sometimes Yu Xian would invite herself along and his moments of empty solitude were interrupted by her vibrant chattering. 

He found that he did not mind it. 

One night, as the cicadas buzzed loudly in the background and the soft glow of the street vendors’ lamps coloured everything in warm hues, Yu Xian allowed herself hope and slipped her small hand into his. 

He did not let go. 

* * *

In their third year of highschool, Yu Xian and Zheng Chun sat on opposite sides of the room. Despite that, she still badgered him to eat lunch with her. 

One afternoon, as they were walking to a local bakery, he had confessed that he felt like he was always searching for something, but didn’t really understand what. 

“I’m looking for something too,” she admitted. “I don’t know if I’ll find it, or where it will be, but I’m looking for it.” 

A soft spring breeze swept through the plum trees. 

“What if we’re just searching for each other,” she joked, giggling to herself at the thought, but secretly wishing that were the case. 

She was sure that they were just two people walking down the same path. 

The plum blossoms fluttered to the ground. 

* * *

By the time entrance exams and graduation rolled around, Yu Xian found that she didn’t have any free time at all, as was the case for most students her age. When finally, she was free to celebrate her summer and freedom, her phone vibrated. 

He was leaving tomorrow. 

Her heart caught itself in her throat and she knew that she had to see him. Before she left, she clutched the blue hibiscus hair pin to her chest and whispered a silent wish before lodging it in her long black locks. Perhaps it would give her the courage that she needed.

The rain pounded against her umbrella, and her feet almost slipped on the wet pavement. She had to keep going. The wind was so strong that it blew her umbrella back and the rain soaked her to the bone. Still, she kept going. 

At last, the familiar gray apartment door. She knocked and waited with baited breath. 

_Click._ The door unlatched and without waiting for invitation, she wrapped both arms around him and sobbed silently. 

“You can’t leave,” she begged, her tears making a mess of his shirt. He reached up and ran his fingers through her hair, knowing that nothing he said would make her feel better. He froze when his fingers ran over the ridges of her hairpin. He stared at it, the familiarity and resemblance was shocking to him. 

He left her on the couch and returned with a small jewellery bag in hand. Inside, amidst the folds of the soft polishing cloth, she found the matching hairpin. 

She reached out to touch it, needing to confirm that it was in fact real and not an illusion. The tips of her fingers grazed the palm of his hand and she remembered. 

“Ulquiorra,” she whispered, her lips forming the syllables for a name that she had never spoken, but she knew as well as her own. 

“Orihime,” he said _sotto voce_ after a long minute of silence. 

That was all the encouragement she needed to press her lips to his. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The characters for their names if any one is curious:  
> Mao Zheng Chun 毛争春  
> Li Yu Xian 李羽孅


	2. Epilogue

_Wind and rain escorted Spring's departure,_

_Flying snow welcomes Spring's return._

_On the ice-clad rock rising high and sheer_

_A flower blooms sweet and fair._

_Sweet and fair, she craves not Spring for herself alone,_

_To be the harbinger of Spring she is content._

_When the mountain flowers are in full bloom_

_She will smile mingling in their midst._

\- Mao Ze Dong, "Ode to the Plum Blossom"

* * *

A small envelope delicately decorated with plum blossoms sat on his desk. It was addressed to him in neat, feminine calligraphy. It felt heavy when he retrieved it from the mailbox earlier. He opened it from the side, careful to not tear more of the envelope than necessary. 

A small bundle wrapped in silk cloth slipped out along with a note. He unwrapped the silk only to find two blue hibiscus hairpins nestled inside. 

_I wanted to thank you, but I couldn’t say it because it’s the same as saying "goodbye forever" and that would be just too sad._

_\- Orihime 1 _

* * *

Years later, she again, waited in front of an apartment door (“brown this time,” she noted) for the sound of a click. 

This time when she had rushed to embrace him, he tucked the floral pins into her hair, she entwined her hands in his, and she knew that this was where they were supposed to end up all along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The line Orihime writes comes from the song this fic is named after Together When...[(video)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dg_SRODPlfA) [(English lyrics)](https://misachanjpop.wordpress.com/2013/04/20/together-when-ayumi-hamasaki/)


End file.
